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very much. Already, Mathew knew more about her than Lord Strapshire did simply because he’d asked .
    After supper, Mathew asked her for a second dance and she agreed, wishing they had been able to enjoy the waltz. He was a fine dancer, never mind his jesting, and she would not mind the feel of his hand at her waist nor the chance to talk with him throughout the dance. But it was not to be and instead they shared a quadrille, which was enjoyable but murder on her feet. When they finished, he led her to a chair and apologized immediately.
    “I am sorry my discomfort is so obvious,” she said, cringing as she curled her toes. She wished she could remove the shoes completely and soak her feet in a warm tub of water. She looked at him. “I enjoyed the dance very much.”
    “May I sit with you through this set?” Mathew raised his eyebrows in what she thought was a hopeful manner.
    “I have already taken far more of your time than I deserve.”
    “I have been happy to share the time with you.”
    She found it impossible to look away from his eyes. Did he mean it? She did not know him well enough to gauge his sincerity. He could be a flirt and a rake for all she knew, though such gossip usually found its way through parlors quickly enough should that be the case. But still, he was here because she had offered him relief from his debt to her. To consider any other reason was foolish . . . and dangerous. The Incident would always be between them. She looked at her feet, pushing away those pesky memories for the second time in one night.
    “There you are!”
    She and Mathew looked up to see Lord Strapshire standing before them, a brilliant smile on his fine face.
    “Miss Davidson is sitting this set out,” Mathew explained in an even tone, though Bianca could feel the way he cut off each word at the end.
    “Very good,” Lord Strapshire said, taking the empty seat to Bianca’s right. He tried to take her hand, but she pretended not to notice as she smoothed her skirts. Instead, she asked Mathew when his parents would return from London.
    “ My mother is in London,” Lord Strapshire interrupted before Mathew could answer. He then went on to explain in great detail what his mother did in London—shopping, tea with her many distinguished friends of rank and consequence, promenades, and dinner parties.
    Bianca clenched her teeth and avoided Mathew’s eye for fear it would be her undoing. She knew he wanted to help her out of this stupid conversation; she could feel it in the tension of his body next to her. But they could not excuse themselves to dance a third dance—it would be too much too soon—and they had already taken time in the garden. Bianca saw little chance for rescue, but it was unfair that they both had to suffer through this tedious monologue. When Lord Strapshire paused for a breath, she turned to Mathew and spoke quickly.
    “Did you not want to play a round of whist, Mr. Hensley? I hope you will not let us keep you.”
    Mathew furrowed his brow slightly, then seemed to understand her attempt at rescue. He leaned forward and addressed the baron. “Would you care to join me, Strapshire? I believe I overheard some men saying they were bereft at your spending all your time on the dance floor. I know they are eager to hear your tales of London and admire your fine skill at cards.”
    “Oh, well, I try to reserve my skill at the table for card parties, rather than side entertainments at fine events such as this, but seeing as how I am unable to dance any more with this fine lady . . .” He grabbed Bianca’s hand, raised it to his lips, and planted a lingering kiss.
    She withdrew her hand as quickly as she could. “Oh, do entertain yourself with a hand of cards, Lord Strapshire,” she said. “I have some friends I am eager to talk with.”
    He lifted one eyebrow. “No doubt they are eager to talk with you as well, seeing as how you have been so well attended by a certain man this night.”
    She